


Still not a word

by everyfandomoftherainbow



Category: Fargo - Fandom, Wrenchers - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-07-24
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:27:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everyfandomoftherainbow/pseuds/everyfandomoftherainbow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wrench and numbers try to slowly make up after an argument</p>
            </blockquote>





	Still not a word

**Author's Note:**

> DanL gave me the idea and they are so cute uwu swag money

Nothing was ever easy after a fight. After the yelling and the wild gestures, the occasional thing being thrown and whacked at the other one’s face. Sometimes they stayed mad at each other for days, weeks even. It was always over the job, or something stupid, or some mistake.   
That next morning after one of the biggest fights they had ever gotten into, Wrench slept on the ground because he refused to share a bed with Numbers. It was rare that a bicker would turn into something so extreme, even with the couple of punches they had thrown. He woke up with a stiff back and an ache in his shoulders. Of course, Wrench pretended like it was fine, and didn’t bother signing anything to Numbers. He was pissed. They both were. The day went on, the usual job and the usual town. As the sun went down and the two hit men became tired and weary, Wrench realized he missed the seldom communication with Numbers. They were in the car, driving back to the motel.   
He looked over at Numbers, who was driving, with a serious and rather angry look plastered on his face. And Still not a word. He sighed and began to feel guilty for the previous night. Some pretty nasty phrases were exchanged. Number’s right hand sat in the middle of them, resting on the counsel of the car. Wrench hesitated, but without any warning he grabbed Number’s hand, entangling his fingers into his, and holding on tight, even when Numbers tried to pull away. He held his hand in his, firmly in the middle of the car.   
Number’s eye brows rose above his sunglasses, but he didn’t let go of Wrench’s hand. He kept driving, without a word. Slowly they would have to make small apologies for the things they had said, but sometimes those apologies were never verbal, or even spelled out. A kiss here and there, holding hands and even hugging would be their apologies to one another.


End file.
